


Night and Day

by bluemoonrabbit



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Jooheon's cats, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, One Night Stands, Pop Culture, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-10 23:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20536067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoonrabbit/pseuds/bluemoonrabbit
Summary: A gala. A night with Hyungwon that Minhyuk didn’t want to end. A photoshoot. A day with Hyungwon that Minhyuk just wants to get over with.Tensions rise — but so does the chance to clear a lingering misunderstanding.





	Night and Day

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt MX-20: Hyunghyuk are rival models who can't stand each other. One day they're paired together for a photoshoot that involves them getting very up close and personal with each other.

Minhyuk prides himself on being the kind of person his friends can count on — steadfast, loyal, selfless, and always down for a good time. So on a bright spring morning when the taxi drops him off at the lush, sprawling Seongbuk-dong property where the shoot for Lee Jooheon’s denim line is located, he feels pretty good. He’s here to help an old friend with their labour of love — what could be more wonderful?

Little does he know he’ll soon be eating his words.

“Minhyukkie-hyung! Get over here!” Jooheon’s voice rings out over the upbeat music as he pulls Minhyuk in for a hug at the entrance. As always, his hair is styled to the nines — this time it’s platinum blond, teased and combed into a perfectly imperfect quiff. His attire, however, is simple for once: a crisp white T-shirt and blue jeans that hug his thighs perfectly. The jeans they were all here for.

“Hey Heonnie, so good to see you again,” says Minhyuk. He squeezes Jooheon tightly before pulling back, allowing his friend to usher him through the lofty foyer. The house’s layout leads them past the gleaming kitchen, taken over by the hair and makeup team. 

Jooheon pauses in the doorway and says, “Look who finally showed up!”

Minhyuk’s eyes dart from the other three models (one silver-haired model in particular, if he’s honest) perched on stools at the cluttered island to the smile dimpling Jooheon’s cheeks. A rush of anxiety quickens his pulse, followed by rage that settles hot and heavy in his chest.

_ This was a mistake, _ he thinks. _ Favours to old friends be damned. _

But as soon as that thought springs into his mind, a kinder one follows. _ Remember who you’re here for. _ He breathes and steels himself for a long day.

“Hi, I’m Minhyuk,” he says rather redundantly, gritting his teeth in what he hopes is a sincere, not-bitter smile. There’s really no need for self-introduction. The industry is small, especially for big names like theirs — one can’t afford to not know who’s who. Nonetheless, the other models look up, greet him warmly, and introduce themselves. Well, all but one, but Minhyuk’s not counting. 

Jooheon beams at him. “I’m so glad you could make it. I can’t imagine launching my line without you guys.”

Minhyuk pauses, feeling the sincerity of Jooheon’s words deeply. Guilt washes over him. Today’s not about him at all, nor the foul taste that floods his mouth when he sees Chae Hyungwon (that utter bastard). No, today’s about the long months Jooheon spent ignoring his naysayers and pouring his love into his denim line. Today’s about Jooheon tacking _ designer _ onto his existing credentials of _ rapper, producer, _ and _ fashion icon. _ Minhyuk can damn well set his salty feelings aside to focus on helping to bring his friend’s vision to life.

“Well, here I am!” Minhyuk grins, waving his hands in a little fanfare. 

“Yes! Here you are!” Jooheon agrees. He cheerfully shoves Minhyuk towards a wide corridor leading off the living room, where one of the black-clad assistants press a pair of DWTD jeans and a crisp, white, button-down shortsleeve — still on their hangers labelled _ Lee Minhyuk _ — into his hands. She also hands him a pair of leather loafers then gestures him towards a washroom.

Inside, Minhyuk closes the door and unclips the jeans from its hanger. He can’t help but smile as he feels the rich, buttery texture of the denim. The indigo fabric is thick and hefty, yet soft enough that he’s sure it won’t hinder his movement. He quickly sheds his own clothes and pulls on the set chosen for him — as he expected, the jeans fit and feel like a dream. 

When he emerges, several of Hyunwoo’s assistants hurriedly grab him by the elbows, pulling him into the controlled chaos that Hyunwoo’s orchestrating in the kitchen. To his utter dismay, he is placed onto a stool right next to none other than Chae Hyungwon, who is having his non-existent blemishes concealed. 

“Minhyuk-ssi,” Hyungwon greets Minhyuk civilly, barely turning his head to glance at him. “Congratulations on your _ Vogue _ cover.”

Minhyuk bristles. Several months ago, Hyungwon said those exact words to him, but in an entirely different tone. The symmetry feels like a slap to the face. 

— 

_ “Minhyuk-ssi.” _

_ A light, genteel voice grabbed Minhyuk’s attention from its wandering path around the lavishly decorated ballroom. The voice was so soft and quiet that it was a wonder he even picked it out through the loud music that throbbed around him. He turned around and was met with Chae Hyungwon smiling at him, inhumanly handsome in his sleek, tailored suit. _

_ “Chae Hyungwon,” he said, extending a large hand for Minhyuk to shake. Minhyuk hurriedly set down his wineglass to take his hand. Hyungwon’s palm was soft and cool in Minhyuk’s shaking one. _

_ “I know,” said Minhyuk, awed. Although he and Hyungwon were roughly the same age and had started modelling around the same time, Minhyuk could very well count himself as a fan of Hyungwon’s. Not many of their cohort could use their facial expressions like an accessory to finish their outfits like Hyungwon could. _

_ Hyungwon smiled shyly at Minhyuk. “Congratulations on your _ Vogue _ cover. You were phenomenal in it.” _

_ Hyungwon was… praising… him? Minhyuk flushed with pride, pleased with the acknowledgement. _

_ “No way,” he rebutted. “Your _ Elle _ cover literally outsold mine.” _

_ Hyungwon’s cheeks turned a charming pink colour before he threw his head back and laughed, a surprisingly musical sound. He snagged a glass of red from a passing steward and raised it in salute. The smile he directed at Minhyuk was warm and inviting. _

_ “Cheers to us?” _

_ Minhyuk beamed, thrilled with finally making the acquaintance of a colleague he’d long admired. He picked up his wineglass again and tapped it against Hyungwon’s. _

_ “Cheers.” _

— 

“Cheers,” Minhyuk bites out. “Congrats on _ GQ.” _

Hyungwon nods coolly, not even bothering to turn to look at Minhyuk. It only serves to boil Minhyuk’s blood. It’s not like he bought the magazine for any reason other than scoping out the competition. Besides, Hyungwon is a competent model. Minhyuk could learn from the likes of him. Yes, that’s exactly why he bought the magazine.

One of the assistants approaches Minhyuk and begins slathering his bare face with primer, so he relaxes the grimace that tenses his muscles and closes his eyes. There’s a rustling sound, followed by the squeak of chair legs against hardwood. When Minhyuk opens his eyes again, Hyungwon is gone, replaced by Yoo Kihyun. 

“Hey Min, long time no see,” says Kihyun, smiling and propping his chin up on a palm. His hair is in slight disarray, no doubt mussed up from having to wrangle and coordinate all the staff on the shoot into order. 

“Hey, Creative Director Yoo,” Minhyuk grins. Closing his eyes and emptying his mind while Hyunwoo’s assistant prepped his skin helped a little to dissolve away the bitterness he felt at seeing Hyungwon. He can now better appreciate the joy of seeing so many of his friends together in one place again. 

Kihyun’s lips quirk into a tiny, pleased smile at the moniker. “I only have a few minutes, so I’ll brief you on the shoot now. Jooheon didn’t explain the concept to you, did he?”

“Nope,” replies Minhyuk, popping the ‘p.’ “He only told me to bring my beautiful self.”

Kihyun shakes his head in amusement. “Of course he did. Anyway, the concept for DWTD is simple, quality denim that lets the wearer’s personality shine through, which is why Jooheon chose models with very different styles.”

He gestures his thumb over to the glass door that separates the kitchen from the back yard. Outside, Jooheon and the other models are now lounging on deck chairs, chatting among themselves. Despite himself, Minhyuk whistles lowly at the sheer calibre of talent assembled. 

Out of everyone casted for the shoot, he and Hyungwon are the only ones who do both runway and editorial. So well, in fact, that the media loves pitting them against each other. Sure, Minhyuk has several bones to pick with Hyungwon, but even he can’t deny that the other’s refined, high-fashion elegance is a perfect foil for his own boy-next-door charm. 

_ Jooheon chose well, _ he thinks begrudgingly.

And there’s Jooheon himself, an icon in his own right who’s made a name for himself with his impeccable, experimental style and frequent invitations to fashion weeks all around the world. At only twenty-four years old, Jooheon’s been praised for bridging the gap between the underground rap scene and high fashion — no easy feat at all. 

Beside Jooheon sits industry bad boy Im Changkyun, tattooed, black-haired, and stony-faced. Minhyuk remembers when Changkyun suddenly transitioned his modelling career from Instagram to editorial, and the subsequent chorus of tongues he set wagging. He doesn’t know Changkyun well at all — in fact, he’s a touch intimidated by him — but he can’t deny the utter respect he feels for the younger’s tenacity in the face of industry elitists who look down on influencers. 

A tiny chill runs down Minhyuk’s spine as Changkyun casts his bored gaze around. He quickly averts his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring through the glass. Only when he’s sure the danger has passed does he peek again.

Lee Hoseok, blond, Adonis-like fitness model and the face of Under Armour in South Korea, gets up from his seat and slides open the glass door. 

“Hey!” he says, nodding at Minhyuk and Kihyun as he searches the kitchen table for a suitable snack. 

Minhyuk grins back. He’s heard so many charming stories about this man, like how his career got kickstarted when he went viral for looking too handsome for a background actor in a drama, to how he quietly devotes his time and money to many charitable causes. Needless to say, Minhyuk’s very eager to work with him. 

Hoseok pours two paper cups of coffee, then, nodding again at Minhyuk and Kihyun, returns to his seat. He thrusts one of the cups towards Changkyun then smiles winsomely at him. Fascinated, Minhyuk watches as Changkyun blinks in surprise before his face melts into a shy smile. Beside them, Hyungwon watches the scene with curiosity too. His eyes pop wide open when a furry brown — something — rubs against his leg.

Minhyuk squints and leans forward. “Is that…?”

Kihyun glances in the direction of Minhyuk’s gaze. 

“Of course it is,” he says, unfazed. “That’s Yoshi. Gucci should be wandering around somewhere in the yard too.”

“Silly of me to ask,” says Minhyuk. It is, actually. Jooheon may be biased because his cats are his actual daughters, but anyone can see that Yoshi and Gucci are beautiful creatures, with their large eyes and glossy, leopard-like coats. Of course their dad would incorporate them into his shoot.

“Mind if I steal Minhyuk for a bit?”

Minhyuk and Kihyun look up to see Hyunwoo grinning at them, clean brushes in hand. 

“Be my guest,” says Kihyun cheerfully. Tugging a sheet of paper loose from his folder, he hands it to Minhyuk and adds, “Here’s the full brief of the shoot.”

He hops off the stool and dusts himself off. Minhyuk watches Hyunwoo’s eyes following Kihyun’s back at he leaves to check on the set.

“Kihyun? Really?” Minhyuk teases. 

Hyunwoo smiles, a touch sheepish but entirely fond. “Not a word.”

“Alright, alright!”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you giving Hyungwon the stink eye,” says Hyunwoo. He squeezes out a dollop of foundation onto his mixing palette and begins buffing it into Minhyuk’s skin with a sponge. Minhyuk waits until Hyunwoo’s done his chin area before he speaks.

“I thought I was being subtle about it.”

“Pfft,” Hyunwoo laughs. “Have you ever been subtle about anything in your life?”

“Nah,” Minhyuk admits. He looks down at the brief, seeing but not reading.

“Have you told Kihyun?”

“... No.” Minhyuk doesn’t know why, but he hasn’t told anyone. 

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

— 

_ “You have to tell me what happened.” Minhyuk leaned forward on his elbows, enraptured. “I keep getting conflicting stories.” _

_ Hyungwon smiled mysteriously, swilling his wine around and around in his glass. He tilted his head back to drain the last dregs. “So you know that Jooheon and his cats were invited to sit front row at the Gucci Fall/Winter show.” _

_ Minhyuk nodded. He found it absurd that Jooheon’s cats had reached fashion-icon levels of renown, like the feline equivalent of Kim Taehyung’s beloved Yeontan. In fact, he’d even refused to believe they’d been invited to a fashion show when Jooheon had told him, but the proof was in the countless press pictures. _

_ “But only Yoshi could make it because Gucci was sick. Ironic, right?” _

_ Minhyuk huffed a laugh, nodding for Hyungwon to continue. _

_ “Turns out Yoshi was sick too.” Hyungwon’s smile turned devious. “She threw up. Right on Anna Wintour’s shoes.” _

_ “No way,” Minhyuk scoffed. “You’ve gotta be joking.” _

_ Hyungwon shook his head. “I was walking right past them on the runway when it happened. You should’ve seen the looks on their faces.” _

_ Sheer terror flooded through Minhyuk as he imagined the scenario. “Of all the shoes to throw up on…” _

_ “Anna fucking Wintour,” Hyungwon agreed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. _

_ They stared at each other for a beat before simultaneously bursting into laughter. Minhyuk felt impossibly light — maybe from the wine, maybe from Hyungwon’s attentiveness to everything he said. _

_ He wiped a tear from his eye. “That’s absolutely beautiful.” _

_ “What can I say,” Hyungwon laughed. “That’s what happened.” _

— 

“And that’s what happened,” Minhyuk finishes recounting what happened that night. The gala. The wine. The conversation. 

And what happened after. 

He exhales deeply. It feels good to finally get the anger, the contempt, and the sting of rejection off his chest. He’s glad it’s Hyunwoo listening too — of all the people here, he can depend on Hyunwoo to listen without judgement. 

Hyunwoo quirks a half-smile at him and continues painstakingly drawing fake freckles onto Minhyuk’s cheekbones with a pencil liner, then blending out each spot with his fingertip. The gentle pressure of the pencil tickled at first, but now feels hypnotically soothing. “That really sucks, Min. I’d be as upset as you are too.”

“You?” Minhyuk questions. “You’re so — zen — about everything.”

“I get bitter over things,” says Hyunwoo calmly. “I just let it go faster than the average person.”

Minhyuk hums in understanding, keeping his face still for Hyunwoo to work on. 

Hyunwoo continues. “Because holding onto a grudge is like—”

“—drinking poison and expecting the other person to die, I know,” Minhyuk finishes. He’s heard this mantra before. The reminder comes at a very needed time, for he’s just read in the brief that he’ll be paired with Hyungwon for the shoot. He sighs and says, “I… I’ll behave today, okay?”

Hyunwoo smiles approvingly at him. Maybe he’s pleased with the way Minhyuk’s makeup turned out, or maybe he’s proud of Minhyuk for wanting to be the bigger person. Minhyuk wants to believe it’s a bit of both. 

“You’re done,” Hyunwoo announces, clapping Minhyuk (hard) on the shoulder. He hands Minhyuk a mirror — as always, he did a wonderful job. “I’ll need to do your chest later though.”

“You’ll need to do my what?”

Hyunwoo raises a perfect eyebrow. “Nobody told you part of the shoot is going to be shirtless?” 

Minhyuk curses under his breath and scans his eyes down the brief. _ Well. _

“Nobody tells me anything ‘round here,” he mutters, trying to not sound petulant. He resolves to treat himself to a cup of coffee and a fat slice of cheesecake after the shoot ends. 

“Tough luck,” Hyunwoo jokes with a shrug. He slaps Minhyuk’s shoulder again, nearly throwing him from his seat. “Now get outta my chair!”

Pouting and rubbing his shoulder, Minhyuk hops off, following his ears to the living room. Like the rest of the house, it’s tastefully opulent, reminiscent of pictures he’s seen of Buckingham Palace. Tall windows let in the morning sunlight from outside, bringing the chandelier above glittering to life. The furniture inhabiting the floor and lining the walls are all beautifully maintained vintage pieces, lending the room a stately and refined comfort. 

Kihyun is at the periphery, watching his assistants angle the large studio lights towards the furniture. When he spies Minhyuk in the corner of his eye, he waves him over. 

“Hey, can you sit in the middle of that divan for a second?” he says, picking up his heavy camera. “I need to see if this doesn’t look completely ridiculous.”

Minhyuk gamely sits on what he’d always thought was called a fainting couch and waits as Kihyun takes a few shots of him. 

“Oh, come on,” Kihyun coaxes humorously. “Give us a pose.”

Minhyuk smiles and swings his legs onto the divan, relaxing against the tiny back of the divan. 

Kihyun grins and snaps a few more photos. An assistant pops up beside him with a MacBook Air opened to the picture previews. He smiles approvingly at the screen. 

“You guys started without us?” Jooheon’s voice breaks through the clatter and murmur of Kihyun and Hyunwoo’s assistants. Amazingly, he’s got both cats bundled and docile in his arms.

“Just testing the lighting,” says Kihyun. “We’re ready now.”

Jooheon nods and sets his cats down onto a wingback chair, then goes outside to fetch the others. When they return, Kihyun directs them to their spots, meticulously arranging them to his satisfaction. Finally when they’re all assembled to his liking, Jooheon and his cats are on the divan. Changkyun’s legs are draped over Hoseok’s lap on another sofa. On the tufted, velvet loveseat, Hyungwon rests his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder, tickling the sensitive skin of his neck with his silver hair and enveloping him with the scent of his cologne. Minhyuk tries to not breathe too deeply. 

“Good.” Kihyun hoists up his camera and takes several shots. “Okay guys, give me resting bitch face.”

Minhyuk’s lip twitches, but he fights the urge to laugh at Kihyun’s customarily humorous directions. Beside him, Hyungwon exhales sharply through his nostrils, but doesn’t react any more than that. 

“Gooood,” Kihyun praises. Hyunwoo hovers several paces behind him, a palette of concealer in hand for touch-ups. “Yeah. Good. Okay. Cocky. Smile at me like I’m that cocky jerk in your Econ class that you have sexually tense rivalry with.”

Hyunwoo abruptly turns, coughing with a poorly disguised laugh. Kihyun spares him an amused glance before taking up his camera again, motioning for the models to follow his direction. Minhyuk tilts his chin back, smirking lazily at the camera. Beside him, Hyungwon shifts subtly, no doubt doing the same. 

“Let’s go!”

— 

_ “Let’s go,” Minhyuk urged. “Aren’t you still hungry?” _

_ Even after dessert had been served — a miniscule slice of tiramisù on a disproportionately large plate — his own stomach still called for food. He pouted, fixing Hyungwon with his best puppy eyes. _

_ “Of course I am,” said Hyungwon. His eyes lit up with mirth, drawing Minhyuk into their depths. “I’m always hungry after these gala dinners.” _

_ “Then let’s ditch this crowd and get some more food,” said Minhyuk conspiratorially, tugging on the cuff of Hyungwon’s sleeve. “C’mon. Pizza. Chicken. Burgers. Heck, barbeque. Take your pick.” _

_ “Dressed like this?” Hyungwon laughed, eyes crinkling as he glanced over their beautiful designer suits. _

_ “How else would we be dressed?” _

_ Hyungwon eyed him with amusement, before seemingly making up his mind. “Pizza. My treat.” _

_ “Your treat?” Minhyuk asked incredulously. “I’m the one dragging you out of here.” _

_ Hyungwon shrugged. “Heard you like pizza.” _

_ Minhyuk cast his mind back, trying to think of all the times he’d publicly talked about pizza. Not that many times, he realized. An interview or two here, several Instagram posts there. A smile grew on his face as it dawned on him that Hyungwon was sincere about admiring his work. There was no other way he would know about Minhyuk’s preferences. _

_ “Quit smiling at me like that,” Hyungwon mumbled, full lips curled into a tiny smile. He stood up, unfolding his long, elegant frame. Raking a hand through his floppy black hair, he pulled out his phone and began tapping at the screen. “Do you want five-star thin-crust pizza, or not-at-all-greasy-but-still-an-abomination pizza?” _

_ A laugh bubbled up from Minhyuk’s chest. “Surprise me.” _

_ “You sure about that?” Hyungwon raised an eyebrow. _

_ “Why not?” Minhyuk smiled. “I love surprises.” _

— 

“I hate surprises,” Minhyuk groans quietly, bumping his forehead against Hyunwoo’s shoulder. He continues bumping his head, relishing in the strange satisfaction of feeling his forehead bounce off his friend’s thick deltoid. 

After directing them through countless pose changes, Kihyun finally dismissed them for a break while the staff prepared the next set. Minhyuk is proud that he was able to focus on the task at hand, and glad that Hyungwon didn’t do so much as look at him during the session. 

“Sorry Min,” says Hyunwoo soothingly. He gently manoeuvres Minhyuk’s head away from his arm. “Do you want me to talk to Kihyun about it? Maybe he could pair you with Hoseok or something.”

“What—” Minhyuk squawks. “No, are you crazy?”

Hyunwoo shrugs.

“Kihyun’s busy enough as it is. And look at those two.” Minhyuk nods his head at Hoseok and Changkyun. They’re still sitting on the sofa, where Changkyun is motioning for the other to flex his muscles. When Hoseok cheerfully complies, Changkyun claps his tattooed hands together in delight, then pushes up his sleeves to show him the black ink on his arms. 

“They sure are having fun,” says Hyunwoo thoughtfully. “Shirt off.” 

“Right?” sighs Minhyuk, absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt and shuddering as the air hits his skin. An assistant materializes beside him with a hanger and takes the garment off his hands. 

He envies Hoseok and Changkyun’s ease of interaction. No doubt they’ll be able to breeze through their sessions and produce many high-quality, usable shots. As Hyunwoo begins brushing a subtly shimmering powder over his collarbones and shoulders, unease stirs in Minhyuk’s gut. Despite his earlier success and his promise to Hyunwoo, he doesn’t know if he can make it through today without picking a fight and ruining Jooheon’s day — especially not as the day wears on and the concepts get more challenging.

As if sensing Minhyuk’s worries, Hyunwoo stops and lays a hand on his shoulder. Minhyuk starts in surprise and looks up at him.

“You can do it,” says Hyunwoo firmly. “You’re Lee fucking Minhyuk.”

His conviction strikes Minhyuk deeply, and Minhyuk wonders if he saved Korea in a past life to merit a faithful friend like Hyunwoo. Smiling tiredly, he says, “Thanks, hyung.”

Hyunwoo waves at the two on the sofa, gesturing them to come over. “Go tell Jooheon and Hyungwon that I’ll need them after I’m done with these two, okay?”

At Minhyuk’s petulant pouting, he adds kindly, “You’re colleagues. You’ll have to talk to him at some point during the shoot anyways. No point putting off the inevitable.”

_ “Fine.” _

As Minhyuk drags his ass off the stool and trudges to where he left his bag, he crosses paths with Hoseok and Changkyun. A touch self-conscious, he crosses his arms over his bare chest.

“Do you know where Jooheon and Hyungwon are?” he asks. 

“Ah, Minhyuk-ssi,” says Changkyun. His voice is surprisingly deep. “They’re in the yard with the cats.”

“Thanks.” Both of them smile at him. Changkyun looks much more youthful now that Hoseok has drawn him out of his shell. Minhyuk smiles back, once again envious that the shoot will be fun for them. 

He traipses to the room where he’d left his weekender bag, locating it among the piles of duffel bags, purses, and backpacks belonging to the staff. Early in his career he learned the hard way to assemble and bring emergency items to shoots — his own kit includes base makeup in his shade, a razor, snacks, and a baby blue monogrammed robe, among other things. He tugs out the robe, shakes it out and dons it, tying the sash securely around his waist. 

He finds Jooheon and Hyungwon in the yard, lounging in the deck chairs, both with a cat in lap. They look up as Minhyuk approaches. 

“Hyunwoo needs you in the kitchen,” he says, glancing between the two of them. Jooheon nods energetically, but Hyungwon merely hums politely.

“I’ll go first.” Jooheon stands and deposits his cat — Yoshi, the one who threw up on Anna Wintour — into Minhyuk’s hands. When Hyungwon makes to stand up, Jooheon adds, “Nuh-uh, sit for a bit. You guys haven’t met before, right? You should get to know each other!”

Minhyuk’s heart sinks as he lowers himself into Jooheon’s vacated seat. Several agonizing moments of silence pass, during which Hyunwoo’s words echo in Minhyuk’s mind. _ No use putting off the inevitable. _

He draws in a breath. Tentatively, quietly, he says, “So.”

Hyungwon’s voice is colder than ice, tenser than a stretched wire when he responds. 

“Please stop.”

— 

_ “Stop! No way!” laughed Minhyuk, shoving lightly at Hyungwon’s shoulder. The sign above the place the taxi had dropped them off at was very familiar to Minhyuk. _

_ “What?” Hyungwon exclaimed. _

_ “I used to eat here all the time,” said Minhyuk, feeling waves of nostalgia wash over him. “Well, not here-here. My university campus had a location. My friends and I hoarded the coupons and ate there after exams.” _

_ “Some experiences really are universal, aren’t they?” Hyungwon’s eyes were warm as he smiled at Minhyuk. Chivalrously he extended his arm for Minhyuk to hold. “Shall we?” _

_ Minhyuk slipped his hand into the crook of Hyungwon’s elbow. “Yes, let’s.” _

_ They weren’t university students anymore, and Minhyuk wasn’t standing before the cash register in his faculty hoodie and sweatpants with fistful of coupons, mulling over his choices. But the feeling of showing up late at night after a long day’s work was the same. Hyungwon invited him to order first; he chose two slices of meat lover’s, and was gratified to have correctly guessed shrimp as Hyungwon’s topping of choice. _

_ “You’re letting me treat you next time,” Minhyuk announced as they sat down face to face at a tiny table by the window. _

_ “There’s a next time?” Hyungwon asked. Minhyuk didn’t miss the hopefulness that tinted his voice. _

_ “Of course,” he answered, grinning. “How could I not, after you treated me to this abomination?” _

_ “Truly an abomination,” Hyungwon chirped happily. Minhyuk lifted an eyebrow in surprise as they both tucked paper napkins into their collars at the same time. “Donatella would drop us from all future Versace shows if she saw us now.” _

_ The aroma of bacon and pepperoni — savoury, not at all greasy — wafted up and teased Minhyuk’s appetite. _

_ “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said, winking before taking a hearty bite. “Oh God it’s so good.” _

_ “So I managed to surprise you?” _

Yes. A thousand times yes._ Minhyuk had never been so surprised by another human being before. _

_ “Yeah.” _

— 

“Yeah,” Minhyuk mutters. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Jooheon agrees. Awe softens his voice into a quiet hush.

After Hyungwon left Minhyuk outside to have his makeup touched up, it took Minhyuk a solid minute to process what had just happened. 

All he wanted was to smooth the rough edges on their interactions. Why did Hyungwon cut him off like that?

Shell-shocked by Hyungwon’s abrupt dismissal he sat completely still there on the lawn chair, unmoving until Yoshi began squirming in his lap. 

Minhyuk then got up and walked back inside, trudging slowly in a disbelieving stupor that slowly melted into hurt. With Yoshi warmly cradled in his arms, he gave himself a shake then quickly made his way a secluded corner he recalled seeing upon entering the house. There he soothed himself by breathing deeply and slowly, focusing on the feel of Yoshi’s soft, silken fur in his palm.

Now all calmed down and feeling okay to face people, he’s back in the living room for the next portion of the photoshoot. Hoseok and Changkyun are standing in the middle of the room in their shirtless glory, happily chatting with each other. Minhyuk’s eyes can’t decide where to land — on Hoseok’s impressively muscled torso, or Changkyun’s dizzying array of blackline tattoos. Minhyuk’s monogrammed robe is draped over a stool in the kitchen now, so he’s just as shirtless as the rest of the models.

Hyungwon is the last of the models to join them, and Minhyuk’s blood freezes at the sight of his toned, bare chest. As best as he can, he casually looks away, not wanting to be caught looking. Somehow he knows that Hyungwon is keeping his eyes averted from Minhyuk’s nakedness too.

“Okay guys, back in position,” Kihyun announces, strolling into the living room with his camera. Hoseok and Changkyun slot themselves together comfortably on the sofa, and Jooheon sits on the divan, bundling Yoshi and Gucci loosely in his muscled arms. 

Minhyuk breathes deeply and settles back onto the loveseat, waiting for Hyungwon to join him. Lush and sensual under his tense fingers, the wine red velvet of the upholstery mocks him. Finally, Hyungwon settles on the piece of furniture beside him. 

“Move a little closer,” says Kihyun, making tiny sweeping motions with his hands. “We’re going for a sexier atmosphere this time.”

Minhyuk swallows down his bitter pride and presses his skin against Hyungwon’s. Behind Kihyun, Hyunwoo smiles sadly at Minhyuk. Meeting Hyunwoo’s eye, Minhyuk responds with a miniscule shake of his head. He hates how the day is turning out, but he’s resolved to see it through. Maybe he’ll swap the cup of coffee he plans to have with his cheesecake with a glass or two of wine instead. 

Hyungwon shifts against Minhyuk, placing a large hand on his thigh. Minhyuk does his best not to recoil, and instead reaches deep within himself to a place of calm where the hurt and anger he felt at being so rudely dismissed earlier are but a dull roar, not an acute scream. 

It hurts. It really, truly, honestly hurts. As Kihyun directs them through the shoot, snapping countless photos, Minhyuk lingers on the same question he’d been asking himself for months.

_ What did I do wrong? _

He casts his mind back to every interaction he’s shared with Hyungwon since that night. There had been several galas and afterparties, but he made sure to stay well away. 

_ What did I do wrong? _

If anything, _ he’s _ the one who should feel slighted. 

_ What did I do wrong? _

At long last, Kihyun deems there to be enough pictures to work with and dismisses them for a second break. Minhyuk’s thankful, but he feels like he’s been given a poisoned gift. On one hand, he doesn’t have to sit pressed against Hyungwon, unable to escape from the scent of his cologne and the reminder of — he cuts himself off before that train of thought can pick up speed. On the other hand, each session they complete brings him closer to the ones where he’s paired only with Hyungwon, with no one else to buffer the tension between them. 

According to the brief, Jooheon and his cats are meant to do their shoot next — probably because Yoshi and Gucci would want to be home as soon as possible. Feeling oddly alone and out of place, Minhyuk slips his monogrammed robe back on and helps the assistants move the studio lights upstairs to the bedroom chosen for Jooheon’s shoot. When the Jooheon and his cats are comfortably situated on top of the bed’s plush white duvet, he returns downstairs. He shucks off his loafers to curl up in the cozy green wingback chair in the living room with his phone and resolves to catch up on his podcast subscriptions. He and Hyungwon won’t be going until last; by his estimate he has a good hour or two until his solitude is interrupted. 

He gets through an episode of his favourite true crime podcast and has just started the following episode when Jooheon strolls into the living room with Yoshi and Gucci in his arms, murmuring quiet praises to them. He holds them close to Minhyuk’s face, allowing them to sniff him. Minhyuk takes his AirPods out.

“You’re done already?” he asks, surprised. Yoshi — sweet Yoshi — cranes her little face towards Minhyuk’s, puffing tiny breaths against his nose. 

“They were really well behaved,” says Jooheon, beaming down at his cats. “Absolute professionals. But now I gotta take them home and feed them.”

“Alright,” Minhyuk laughs. He gives each cat a rub between the ears. “I’ll see you ‘round then?”

“Yeah,” replies Jooheon regretfully. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. Again, thank you so much for doing this.”

“No problem,” replies Minhyuk sincerely. He means it. How could he not, after seeing the way Jooheon glowed with pride every time he looked at the models wearing the fruits of his hard work? To see that happiness light up his friend’s face for one day was worth a dozen of the horrible one Minhyuk is currently experiencing. 

With a clap on the shoulder and the promise of dinner soon, Jooheon disappears with his cats just as Kihyun and his staff file outside with Hoseok and Changkyun in tow, both barefoot and wearing white T-shirts. Minhyuk watches with idle fascination as the assistants hand them brightly coloured super soakers. He can sense their excitement mounting before Kihyun gives them the go-ahead, and then they burst into childish glee, commencing probably the most attractive water fight Minhyuk has ever seen. Eventually, when their shirts are soaked through, Kihyun has them to peel them off before resuming their roughhousing. 

“They don’t even look like they’re working,” a quiet voice murmurs incredulously. Minhyuk’s head snaps towards its source. 

Chae Hyungwon is perched awkwardly on the red velvet loveseat, a safe and respectable distance away from Minhyuk. He’s wrapped up in a white robe similar to the one Minhyuk’s wearing, no doubt pulled from his own model kit. In his large hands he holds a well-loved novel, his fingers fiddling with the corner of the back cover. The living room is quiet despite the racket outdoors, so his hushed voice carries well to Minhyuk’s ears. 

“Right,” Minhyuk replies stiffly. His limbs are tensing and he can feel his shoulders hunching over defensively. It’s not attractive, and his former modelling coach is probably wondering why she suddenly has a headache, but he can’t help himself. Not after that cold dismissal he received earlier just for trying to bridge the immense chasm that gapes between them. 

“I’m—” Hyungwon falters. He clenches and unclenches his jaw with what seems like great effort. Finally, he bites out, “I’m sorry. I was wrong to talk to you like that.”

The reluctance in his tone grates on Minhyuk’s nerves like sandpaper. It’s false and insincere, and there’s zero genuine intent behind his apology. Nevertheless, Minhyuk recognizes it for what it is: a plea to just get this day over with in relative peace so they can go home and continue despising each other from afar. He doesn’t need to accept the apology, and he doesn’t think Hyungwon cares about being forgiven either.

“Thank you,” replies Minhyuk through gritted teeth. “Let’s do our work well.” 

“Yes,” says Hyungwon, sounding relieved. 

Minhyuk jams his earbuds back into his ears, and Hyungwon slides to the fair end of the loveseat, burying his nose into his novel. As best as Minhyuk tries to lose himself in an audio world where crimes are committed against the person and not the heart, he fails. Confusion and hurt swirl together, thickening like a dense fog as his mind is borne back to that fateful night.

_ What did I do wrong? _

— 

_ “Oh no!” laughed Hyungwon quietly. “What did I get wrong?” _

_ “The lie was that my family had a cat!” _

_ “So Dambi’s a—” _

_ “Yeah, Dambi’s a dog,” Minhyuk smiled. The streetlights flickered as the taxi sped through the roads, casting golden lights and dramatic shadows on Hyungwon’s beautiful face. “Your turn.” _

_ “Okay…” Hyungwon pursed his lips contemplatively. “You know who Im Changkyun is, right?” _

_ Minhyuk nodded. _

_ “First fact: I went to the same high school as him… Second fact: I used to choreograph for my university’s dance team… And third fact … I’m allergic to pineapples,” he finished, turning to aim an expectant smile at Minhyuk. _

_ Minhyuk narrowed his eyes. “Pineapples, huh?” _

_ “Yeah,” said Hyungwon. “They make me — they make my mouth itch. Like hell.” _

_ “That’s the lie!” said Minhyuk, clapping his hands. “You’re not allergic to pineapples.” _

_ “How’d you know?” _

_ “You’re awful at lying!” _

_ “That I am,” Hyungwon chuckled. _

_ The taxi rolled to a stop at the base of Minhyuk’s apartment building. Minhyuk rested his hand on the door handle, ready to open the door, but his entire being begged and pleaded to stay in Hyungwon’s magnetic presence. He could see it in Hyungwon’s eyes too, the longing that resonated with Minhyuk’s regret that the evening had come to an end. _

_ Unbidden, the fingers of his other hand slid along the faux leather seat until they met Hyungwon’s. Tentatively he laced them together. _

_ “Do you,” he began. He tried to tamp down his rising hopes, just in case the answer would be no. Steeling himself, he continued. “Do you want to come up for a drink?” _

_ He looked Hyungwon in the eye, and was rewarded with surprise melting into delight on the other’s face. _

_ “I’d love that.” _

— 

Changkyun’s deep yet boyish laughter breaks through Minhyuk’s reverie when he and Hoseok finally re-enter the house. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even notice the podcast he was listening to had ended. His ears perk up and he casts his eyes over to where they stand dripping wet and shirtless in the hallway, drying their hair with fluffy white towels. In the corner of his eye, he can see Hyungwon slipping a bookmark between the pages of his novel and closing it. Kihyun ushers Hoseok and Changkyun towards the bathroom; as they disappear from view Minhyuk catches a snatch of their conversation. 

“—You go to the same gym? We should work out together!”

“Yeah! I’d love that!”

Kihyun enters the living room, shaking his head fondly. “Kids.”

“Hoseok is literally older than you,” Hyungwon points out. 

Minhyuk’s eyebrow raises a fraction at Hyungwon’s straightforwardness, but Kihyun’s cheeks dimple in mirth. “Didn’t you see him out there?”

“Yeah,” Hyungwon laughs. 

Of course Hyungwon would be friends with Kihyun too, Minhyuk thinks glumly. He can’t escape the irrational thought that he now has one less person in his corner.

Kihyun looks over at Minhyuk, smiling with satisfaction — probably from the good outcome of Hoseok and Changkyun’s shoot. 

“You guys are up,” he says excitedly. “We’re in the study. The team should be done setting up by now.”

Minhyuk swallows down his trepidation, tucking his AirPods back into their case, and the case and his phone into the deep pocket of his robe. He stands, stuffing his feet back into his loafers. Hyungwon gets up too, and they follow Kihyun through the polished corridors. An assistant intercepts them and hands them both white collared shirts, which they put on in the hallway before entering.

_ Study, my ass, _ thinks Minhyuk as they step into the aforementioned room. Well lit, with high vaulted ceilings, walls lined with stuffed bookcases, and elegant vintage furniture scattered throughout, it more resembles a library than a room where one does one’s taxes. 

Some of the furniture has been carefully moved aside to accommodate the studio lighting — Minhyuk can spot where they previously sat by the indents in the plush rug on the hardwood floor. The lighting is softly aimed at a loveseat not unlike the one they sat on in the living room. It’s upholstered in lush emerald velvet, its walnut frame ornately carved with leaves and curlicues. 

That’s where they’ll be sitting again, no doubt. Minhyuk sighs and reminds himself that once he and Hyungwon finish the shoot, he can be on his not-so-merry way home to the cheesecake and wine waiting in his fridge. And his pajamas. Oh yes, his lovely soft pajamas.

Hyunwoo materializes beside Minhyuk and begins fussing with his collar and buttons, doing them and undoing them, then tweaking the strands of his hair to achieve the right level of dishevelment. As he does so, he smiles soothingly at Minhyuk.

“Doin’ okay?” he mutters.

“Yeah,” Minhyuk whispers back. Hyungwon’s already on the loveseat, looking perfectly casual with a book held loosely in one hand and more stacked beside him on the loveseat. Hyunwoo rests a hand on Minhyuk’s shoulder again, catching his eyes with his firm gaze. 

“You’ll be done soon,” he says. “Hang in there.”

The corner of Minhyuk’s mouth lifts in a wry smile. “Thanks, hyung. You’re a gem.”

Hyunwoo’s smile grows encouraging. “And you’re Lee fucking Minhyuk. Go rock that shit.” 

The others don’t really show it by words or actions, but Minhyuk can tell they’re all waiting for him to start the shoot. He crosses over to the loveseat, takes the subtlest of deep breaths, and takes his seat beside Hyungwon.

— 

_ Minhyuk took the subtlest of deep breaths as he unlocked his door with Hyungwon waiting barely two pace-lengths behind him. It had been a long time since he’d had any company over, whether friends, family, or partners — he thanked his lucky stars he’d had time over the weekend to tidy up. _

_ “Well, this is it,” he said lamely, gesturing over his apartment. With Kihyun’s help, he had done a good job of decorating it, he thought. His furniture was tasteful and he had books on the shelves that he actually read. He didn’t know why he was so anxious that Hyungwon should like the way his home looked. _

_ “Please take a seat,” said Minhyuk, slipping off his leather shoes and setting out slippers for Hyungwon. “What can I get you? Water, coffee, tea, wine…?” _

_ “Tea, please,” replied Hyungwon, perching himself on a stool by the kitchen island. _

_ Minhyuk put the electric kettle on and opened the cabinet. “What kind? Black, green, Earl Grey, chamomile…” _

_ Hyungwon’s delighted laughter bounced off the kitchen walls. “You have multiple kinds!” _

_ “Of course!” _

_ “A man after my own heart,” said Hyungwon, smiling warmly. “I’ll take green with honey.” _

_ Five minutes later Minhyuk slid a steaming mug across the counter into Hyungwon’s waiting hands. “Do you want to have that inside or outside?” _

_ “Outside?” _

_ Minhyuk pointed to the glass door on the far side of the living room. Hyungwon’s eyes lit up at the sight of the balcony beyond. _

_ “Can we drink outside?” Hyungwon asked in a hushed voice. _

_ Minhyuk beamed. “Of course.” _

_ He led the way to the glass door to slide it open. The night air chilled their skin, carried by the breeze off the distant Han River. _

_ “Wow,” whispered Hyungwon. _

_ Minhyuk laughed quietly, a touched surprised by Hyungwon’s reaction. It wasn’t like Hyungwon didn’t live in an equally — if not more — cushy and well-situated apartment. _

_ “You have such a pretty view of the city.” _

_ “I guess, yeah,” Minhyuk replied bashfully. It was silly but he was a touch proud of the magnificent view he had. They chatted quietly as they sipped at their tea, enjoying the night air and the distant sounds of traffic and the few stars that were bright enough to be seen despite Seoul’s light pollution. _

_ At last their conversation came to a lull, and the question that had been on Minhyuk’s mind all night slipped out of his mouth. _

_ “What made you approach me tonight?” _

_ “Honestly?” Hyungwon set his near-empty mug onto the little table where Minhyuk often drank his morning coffee. He rested his elbow onto the railing and turned to look at Minhyuk with his cheek in his palm. “I wasn’t lying about being your fan.” _

_ “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Minhyuk smiled, setting his mug onto the table. _

_ Hyungwon’s expression melted into something so very tender. It stole the air right out of Minhyuk’s chest. _

_ “But in truth,” said Hyungwon, “I thought you looked beautiful, standing there alone with your glass of wine.” _

_ “That’s so cheesy.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ Utterly entranced by the light in Hyungwon’s eyes, Minhyuk drifted closer. _

_ It was like the entire evening had led to this, from the moment Hyungwon had extended his hand to shake Minhyuk’s. Everything felt like it was falling into place as Hyungwon reached out that same hand to caress Minhyuk’s cheek. Drawn as though by a magnet, Minhyuk leaned closer, pulled into his gravitational field, till at last their lips touched in a slowly melting kiss. _

— 

“Lean closer to each other,” Kihyun murmurs. He’s holding his camera up, and the only sound echoing through the study is that of the snap of the shutter. “Good. Beautiful. Be close, like you’re lovers stealing a quiet moment in the library.”

It takes every damn ounce of Minhyuk’s professionalism to swallow down the scoff that rises up his throat. Beside him, Hyungwon tenses minutely, no doubt thinking the same as Minhyuk.

Kihyun leads them through countless poses of varying intimacy, occasionally asking them to do up a button, undo a button, look at each other like this, touch each other lightly like that. Minhyuk bears it with patience that astounds himself. If he stares at the space between Hyungwon’s eyebrows, he can pretend he’s back on the set of a cozy, sensual shoot he did last year with other top models. 

If it were not for the very familiar scent of Hyungwon’s cologne enveloping Minhyuk’s senses, bringing him back to that fateful night.

“Okay, Minhyukkie. Can you lie down with your head in Hyungwon’s lap?”

— 

_ “Lie down,” Hyungwon whispered. They had made their way back to Minhyuk’s bedroom, shedding their suits and slowly unbuttoning each other’s shirts along the way. Minhyuk laid back, resting against the covers for Hyungwon to admire him fully in the moonlight. _

_ “God, you’re gorgeous,” said Hyungwon, brushing a stray lock of hair from Minhyuk’s brow. Minhyuk chuckled and pulled him down for a lazy, sensual kiss. _

_ “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmured against Hyungwon’s full lips. _

_ Between kisses they shed the last of their clothes, until finally they were naked and panting in each other’s embrace. _

_ Later, all clean and warm and drowsy, they collapsed back in Minhyuk’s bed, not bothering to put on any clothes. _

_ “Stay,” Minhyuk mumbled. “I’ll make you eggs.” _

_ “I’ll stay,” came Hyungwon’s reply. In his post-orgasmic haze, Minhyuk dared to think he sounded… adoring. _

_ He fell asleep to Hyungwon’s lips chastely kissing the nape of his neck. _

— 

Hyungwon’s fingers brush against the nape of Minhyuk’s neck, sending a violent shiver running down his spine. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t— 

“Sorry, can I take five?” Minhyuk says evenly, tamping down the emotion threatening to shake his voice.

Kihyun blinks in surprise but nods. “We could all use a water break. Do you want to take ten?”

“I only need five,” Minhyuk insists, buttoning his shirt up with quivering fingers. Kihyun raises a dubious eyebrow before dismissing everyone. Minhyuk all but speeds out of the study, through the corridor, and out into the lush, verdant yard.

He inhales a shuddering breath. Exhales. Inhales again. Exhales.

Subconsciously he raises his left hand to his mouth, biting on his pinky out of nervous habit.

He was doing so well. 

He did so well the morning after, when he woke up alone and confused to an empty bed. The connection he felt with Hyungwon the night before had felt so real, yet were it not for the empty mugs on the balcony table, he wouldn’t even have known if he dreamt up his presence. Sure, he moped all day, but he still cooked all his meals and returned his library books and ran all the errands he needed to run.

He did well the week after, when he unexpectedly ran into Hyungwon at a work-dinner thing. Minhyuk can’t even remember what the purpose of that function was, only the inscrutable expression Hyungwon greeted him with. Compared to the warmth he’d shown Minhyuk before, the contrast was as stark as night and day.

No doubt that was where all the rivalry rumours originated. That night Minhyuk swallowed his pride and responsibly avoided the other man like the plague. He continued to do so at all the other industry functions he had the misfortune of meeting Hyungwon at in the coming months.

So why was he having such a hard time now?

All he has to do is act like he’s okay. Minhyuk can act; he’s done CFs and drama cameos before and has been praised for all of them. It should be easier than this.

_ You know that’s a lie, _ a part of him whispers.

Minhyuk bites down on his finger, sending stabs of pain lancing through the digit.

_ You’re hurt because it felt real. You thought it could be something more. You thought it could be— _

“Minhyuk!” 

He whips around, hand dropping from his lips as he turns towards the sound.

Hyungwon is standing in the doorway with a hand braced against the frame, chest heaving like he ran to chase Minhyuk to the yard.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes; anger flares in his chest. “Can’t a guy have just _ five minutes to himself—” _

“Look,” Hyungwon begins hotly. “I know we have our differences but can we please set them aside and get the shoot done? I’ve got grievances but I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Hah,” Minhyuk scoffs. “‘Differences.’ That’s a really nice way of putting it.”

After what Hyungwon did, what grievances could he possibly have?

“Well, what else would you call it?” Hyungwon retorts. “Do you want to argue semantics? Talk out our feelings or something?”

“We don’t have time for that,” Minhyuk snaps. To hell with professionalism. “Get the fuck away from me and let me have my—” he glances down at his wristwatch “—my _ three _ minutes. Wow, thanks, asshole.”

Instead of leaving, Hyungwon sits down in one of the lawn chairs. His voice is unexpectedly tired when he speaks.

“We have more than that. Kihyun and Hyunwoo left for a coffee run.”

Minhyuk’s stomach sinks; rage vanishes into disappointment. Not only is he further away from being able to go home and mope, he’s now confined to this tiny space where Hyungwon clearly won’t leave him alone.

_ In for a penny, in for a pound. _

He breathes deeply and sits down on the lawn chair next to Hyungwon’s. 

“Let’s talk it out, then,” he sighs. He’s tired. He doesn’t see the point and he doesn’t see anything productive coming out of it, but they’re stuck anyways while Kihyun and Hyunwoo are off on their lovey dovey Starbucks run. 

There’s a long pause before Hyungwon finally speaks.

“Where do we stand, Minhyuk?”

“What do you mean?”

Hyungwon turns to face Minhyuk, his jaw set firmly. “Look, I really don’t know what I did wrong to deserve the cold treatment you’ve been giving me since — that night. Why do you keep playing the victim, after what you did?”

Disbelief settles in Minhyuk’s belly, quickly solidifying into hurt. “What _ I _did? You—” he laughs humorlessly “—you clearly didn’t want to be around me anymore so I did the right thing and steered clear.”

Hyungwon’s expression melts into incredulousness and disbelief, which only spurs Minhyuk on.

“I thought we both had a good time, like we were on the same page. Clearly that wasn’t the case because you just vanished the next morning.”

“No,” whispers Hyungwon.

“It was nice, wasn’t it? Naive little Lee Minhyuk, bending over backwards for a pretty face and two slices of pizza.” Minhyuk probably sounds a little crazed, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s been holding this in for too long. “Do you make all the boys feel special like that before you ditch them, or was I an outlier?”

“Stop,” Hyungwon whispers through gritted teeth.

Oh, the hot, bitter satisfaction of watching that handsome face lose composure. It whispers venomously in Minhyuk’s ear, brings stinging heat to his eyes as the words continue to spill out of his mouth.

“I was a fool for you that night, Chae Hyungwon,” Minhyuk bites out, “but I have enough self-respect to not give the time of day to people who humiliate me and make me feel used.”

“You didn’t even call me!” Hyungwon snaps.

The earnestness in his voice takes Minhyuk aback, and he’s shocked to see the sheer emotion in his heaving breaths.

“You’re full of shit,” Hyungwon continues, fixing Minhyuk with his fiery gaze. “I explained to you that I had to leave because of a family emergency — I asked you to call me! And you didn’t! So what the hell was I supposed to think?”

“You—” Confusion sweeps away everything. Minhyuk doesn’t remember any of this. “What?”

“I left you a note,” says Hyungwon in a small voice. “I tucked it into the cover of the book on your nightstand.”

All is silent as Minhyuk frantically searches his mental archives for a book he would have been reading months ago. 

“That book…”

“It was fiction. Something nautical?”

Devastation dawns on Minhyuk when he remembers what book it was. _ “The Whale Takes You.” _

“Yes, that’s the one.” Hyungwon looks at him expectantly, eyebrows drawn lightly together.

“Hyungwon…” Crestfallen, Minhyuk turns to face him. “I finished reading that book the night before. The morning after you left, I returned it to the library. I didn’t look inside.”

“Oh.” Hyungwon’s face is blank, completely unreadable to Minhyuk. 

The seconds tick by; as they do, horrible thoughts pile up in Minhyuk’s mind like sand in an hourglass. Does Hyungwon even believe him? It sounds like a dumb reason; Minhyuk wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t. Did they squander a chance to be friends — or something more — due to a stupid mistake he made? 

He thinks about the comfortable ebb and flow of their conversations that night. Of the pleasure they shared. Of falling asleep with Hyungwon’s arms around him. The possibility of what could’ve been tugs at his heart.

Hyungwon wanted him to call. Surely that meant something?

After all the ill feeling they’ve harboured for each other, is there even still a chance that they could go back and start over? 

“Who the fuck still borrows books from the library?”

Hyungwon’s voice shakes Minhyuk out of his thoughts.

“What? I do!” Minhyuk insists defensively. “Who the fuck leaves notes tucked where no one can find them?”

A tiny smile teases at the corner of Hyungwon’s lips, knocking the air out of Minhyuk’s chest. He hasn’t seen that smile aimed at him since that fateful night. It brings optimism rising timidly in his heart.

“Touché,” Hyungwon says with a gentle chuckle. Minhyuk relents and smiles. 

“I’m sorry,” Hyungwon continues. “For a lot of things, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. My apology earlier was fake and shitty, and I’m sorry for that too. I — I honestly don’t know where to start.” 

“Start with dinner,” blurts Minhyuk.

Hyungwon’s gaze snaps to meet his, his eyes soft and wide with surprise.

“It’s my turn to pay this time,” adds Minhyuk. _ Please, please say yes. _

Hyungwon smiles weakly. “You remembered.” 

“I mean… yeah,” says Minhyuk awkwardly. “I was kind of really looking forward to it.”

They smile bashfully at each other for a moment, but whatever is about to be said is cut off by Kihyun’s voice ringing loudly from within. 

“The lungs in that creature,” Minhyuk mutters, prompting a laugh from Hyungwon. Shaking his head ruefully at the timing, Minhyuk stands and extends a hand to help the other up. 

“So, dinner?”

“I like shrimp,” Hyungwon says simply, gazing at Minhyuk with fond eyes. 

Minhyuk smiles, his heart singing with excitement. “I know.”

Hand in hand, they make their way back inside, through the corridors, and back to the study to finish the shoot.

The wine and cheesecake in his fridge can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m bluem00nrabbit on both [twitter](https://twitter.com/bluem00nrabbit) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/bluem00nrabbit). Come say hi!


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